


Drowning

by kaydeefalls



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Community: contrelamontre, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-24
Updated: 2003-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaydeefalls/pseuds/kaydeefalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elijah hates surfing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ContreLaMontre's no dialogue challenge. 43 minutes.

Elijah hates surfing.

Which isn't to say he never _goes_ surfing. He does. Quite frequently, even, whenever Orlando gets that look in his eyes that broadcasts the need for waves and sea and sand and crushing foam, and Dom and Billy roll their eyes and started digging through closets for wetsuits -- then Elijah swallows back his protests and resigns himself to the prospect of drowning yet again.

Whee, drowning. Good times.

This hot Sunday morning starts just as ominously as all the rest. Usually, Elijah doesn't mind being woken up by Orlando -- it happens all too rarely, in his humble opinion -- but there's being woken up by Orlando and then there's being woken up by Orlando when Elijah can make out the sinister shapes of surfboards in the back of his Jeep. Elongated slices of evil in the trunk, with Dom shouting incomprehensibly through the rolled-down window and Orlando himself looming over the bed with that stupid grin on his face and fuck. Another one of _those_ Sundays.

And Sean's verbose "Surfing Safety" lecture from the front seat (which Elijah has to listen to because he's squashed between Dom and Billy with no possibility of escape and the fucking radio is broken) is not exactly improving his mood.

The beach, Elijah thinks sourly, isn't any better. He isn't sure why beaches are such popular vacation spots. Sure, there's sun, but how much sun can a guy take in one sitting? One lousy day of scorching sunlight, plus the added insult of reflected rays (or some shit like that) off the ocean, and Elijah's guaranteed to be lobster red in Makeup the next morning. Porcelain-skinned Frodo is _not_ supposed to look like he got on the bad side of a particularly nasty dragon. So he steals Billy's sunscreen and slathers it over every exposed inch of skin, and tries not to hear Orlando's taunting. Asshole.

Years in the film industry had given Elijah a whole romanticized concept of beaches, but he now realizes that's all a load of bollocks (as Orlando might say). Sex on a beach may be a great drink, but it's a pretty fucking unpleasant mental image. The heat and the sun and the complete lack of privacy, and unless you've got a kink for sand getting into every possible orifice.... Besides, Elijah's very few and not particularly hot sex-on-a-beach fantasies fail to take into account the fact that Orlando spends about two or three seconds on the beach itself before throwing himself and his surfboard into the water.

Elijah can't possibly hope to compete with Orlando's passionate love affair with his board. Which has nothing to do with why Elijah hates surfing.

He hates surfing because he's too goddamn small and scrawny. He hates the weightless feeling in the pit of his stomach as he struggles to float on his board, bobbing up and down on not-quite-waves. He hates the way his wetsuit clings to him, plastering its slimy-rubbery skin all over his own. He hates the solitude of man and board in the middle of the vast blue-grey-green expanse, the way the wind and water and seagulls swallow up Dom's enthusiastic shouting and Billy's sarcasm and Sean's be-carefuls. And he hates the crushing power of the waves themselves, and his own complete inability to remain the fuck upright on his too-narrow, too-flimsy piece of plywood that pretends to be a surfboard.

He hates the way Orlando rides that wave, all sleek black suit and smooth muscle and fluid grace, mastering the wave, dominating it, laughing as he cuts a neat line under the curving wall of water. Elijah can just barely hear that laughter.

Orlando sprawls out across the sand, wetsuit clinging to every muscled curve of his long body. Dom flops down next to him, chattering away. Elijah can't hear a word they're saying, and he doesn't care. Nope. Not at all.

The water swells behind him, and he figures it's his turn. The wave isn't particularly large, thank God, and he's in the right place for it, and even though he hates surfing, he thinks he hates just floating out here even more.

Elijah catches the wave and. Rides it. Holy fucking shit. The water curves perfectly behind him, spraying him with white foam, and he's fucking _riding_ it. His feet are solidly planted on the board (smooth and hard and warm against his skin), the wind whips past his face and tousles his hair, and he opens his mouth to laugh.

On the beach, Dom and Orlando are still talking. Here's Elijah, finally _surfing_ , getting his groove on, and Orlando doesn't even notice.

Elijah's balance falters, and his board shoots out from under him just as the wall of water comes crashing down.

Whee, drowning, Elijah thinks resignedly, trying not to inhale ocean. Good times.

He really fucking hates surfing.


End file.
